


What you want, what you're asking for

by nearperfectthing



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Hopeful Ending, References to Canon violence, Relationship Study, also Neil and unfortunately Riko
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:07:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27866593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nearperfectthing/pseuds/nearperfectthing
Summary: "Jean thinks about how he knows Kevin, quite literally inside and out. How many people can say that they have spent time with Kevin’s blood and bones?"
Relationships: Kevin Day & Jean Moreau
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	What you want, what you're asking for

**Author's Note:**

> me, showing back up to tfc fic 5 years after reading it: have people thought enough about Kevin and Jean??  
> everyone who has read tfc: have thought about Kevin and Jean  
> me: ...
> 
> this is literally just a few scenes about their relationship, it takes place in Jean's head during the books, so while there isn't any graphic or on-screen violence, warnings for, you know, taking place in Jean's head during the books
> 
> title is from the song Iscariot, which i can only assume was put on my spotify playlist for the express purpose of making me emotional about kevin day

01.

Jean’s phone rings, a week to the day, almost a week to the hour, after the Christmas banquet. After Jean had corralled Riko – who could never be corralled anywhere – away from Kevin, at Kevin’s request, knowing what this could cost him in the moment (his hand, apparently, his ability to play, his career, his livelihood, suddenly no longer off-limits, if Kevin is any indication), not knowing yet what this would cost in the long term. 

Jean’s phone rings a week after the banquet, and usually he would not risk answering, because Jean has not earned the right to take private phone calls. Jean has not earned the right to privacy at all, and while many things about Jean’s life in the Nest are distinct (and distinctly worse) than his teammates, this is not one of them – no one has earned the right to privacy in the Nest. 

But the team is distracted, some freshman has gotten himself into trouble, mouthing off in class where anyone, not just the team, could hear it, and so the team must deal with him, because this freshman has not yet learned the rules, and so he must be taught. In moments like these, the team becomes a unit, like a tidal wave, unbroken and mighty and Jean knows that they will not miss a few droplets of water, so he ducks out of the room. He is struck immediately, always, with the terror and the freedom and the terrifying freedom of having a moment to himself.

Jean’s phone rings, and it’s an unknown number, but the area code informs him the call is coming from South Carolina. Alone, Jean picks it up. He answers in French, thinking if the caller isn’t Kevin, he’ll hang up, because there’s no one else in South Carolina, or anywhere, that he has any interest in speaking to.

“You fool,” Jean says, not even a hello, they are past hellos, these two, “You fool, he’s coming after you. He’ll make you come back, and we’ll all pay.” By which he means, we’ll both pay, you and I, my brother, my brother who left after we promised each other it was impossible. 

Jean can tell it’s Kevin on the other side of the line, just from his breathing. Breathing so familiar that Jean hears it sometimes in his sleep. 

“I had to,” Kevin says. The apology, unspoken. The apology that Jean doesn’t want to hear, can’t hear.

“I know,” Jean says, which is the truth.

That is the last time they talk, for a long while. For the rest of the season, right up until Edgar Allen changes districts, and Kevin calls again. In the time that passes, silence between them, Jean hurts and he plays and he hurts and he plays and Kevin coaches and he trains his right hand and, Jean imagines, he watches the stars at night, the sun coming up in the morning. 

02.

When the Christmas banquet rolls back around, Jean wonders if this could qualify as the worst year of his life, except for all of the others. He puts on the outfit given to him – black and red, always black and red – and doesn’t think too hard about who else will be there. Seeing Kevin at the first banquet had been far worse than Jean had anticipated – Kevin, terrified. Kevin, drunk. Kevin, free. Riko is worked up about the banquet in a way that puts Jean on edge. It forces him to hope Riko’s plan will work, even if the plan working will break the Butcher’s son, who is about as responsible for his role in the mess as Jean is. Because if the plan doesn’t work, it will be Jean who gets broken. 

The Ravens arrive at the banquet, in perfect synchronicity. Jean stands exactly where he is needed, exactly where he is expected, one step back from Riko himself. If he shuts his eyes, he can almost see Kevin on the other side, just a fraction closer to Riko. Instead, Kevin is across the room, and the distance pulls at every inch of Jean’s body. He thinks it pulls at Riko as well, in a different way, of course. 

They play the role of the champions, for a little bit. The refuse to mingle with the riff-raff, they hear their team announced as top in the NCAA. And then, eventually, Riko peels off, doesn’t even need to gesture at Jean to follow, and they go looking for their other half. 

The specifics of what Riko says, the threats that he makes, have long ceased to interest Jean. More than anything, it’s a relief that Riko’s attention is directed elsewhere, even if it has Kevin pale and shaking, a little, the eyes of all his teammates and few stray adults who don’t know what they’re getting into, trained on him. 

And eventually, Riko dismisses Jean, and the Butcher’s son waves Kevin off, so the two of them make their way to the edge of the room, under the watchful eyes of Kevin’s teammates. Jean holds hard onto Kevin’s arm and doesn’t care if he leaves marks, because Kevin must know what Jean looks like, under the neat black suit, and if he doesn’t, then it’s because he doesn’t care enough. It is possible that Jean is at least as angry at Kevin as he is relieved to have Kevin’s familiar frame to hang on to. 

They make it out of the main room, away from the prying eyes of teammates and Kevin’s general hangers-on. Jean holds the folder out to Kevin, the one Riko has prepared, the one that will bring the Butcher’s son to them, and Kevin refuses to take it, to even look at it. He refuses before Jean explains the deal, and he refuses after. 

“He’s not coming,” Kevin says.

“Of course he is coming,” Jean replies. He has no patience for this, he is not interested in the tangled web of relations between Kevin’s teammates, he is not interested in who Kevin may or may not have loyalty to these days. They are frozen in this moment, a stand-off between two people not known for holding their own. Jean wonders how different Kevin’s life must be, now, for him to even consider the fact that Riko’s wishes can be opposed. 

“He will come,” Jean says again, and he pushes the papers towards Kevin, who takes them gingerly, resentfully. As if any of this is Jean’s responsibility.

“How is your hand?” Jean asks. 

“Healing,” Kevin says, shortly, but not angrily. Jean, of all people, knows how bad it was. Jean thinks about how he knows Kevin, quite literally inside and out. How many people can say that they have spent time with Kevin’s blood and bones? 

“You should be careful,” Jean says. He means Kevin’s hand. He means the earlier standoff. Kevin, of course, hears both.

“ _I_ should be careful?” It almost makes Jean smile, to hear that imperious tone back in Kevin’s voice, the tone that says, this is your problem, I am above it all. 

“Yes,” Jean says sharply, “And maybe one of us will live to see next year. Wouldn’t that be nice? Because it won’t be your little number 10.” He gestures at the folder, and Kevin flinches.

“Jean.” Jean hates this. He hates the pleading in Kevin’s voice. He hates that Kevin is trying to protect the Butcher’s son, when has Kevin ever tried to protect anyone? Certainly not Jean, barely even himself. Jean hates that Kevin is asking him for help, to take care of the Butcher’s son. He hates that he knows this, from just a single word out of Kevin’s mouth. He hates that he is here, doing Riko’s bidding. He hates the pain in Kevin’s eyes, when Kevin is the one who is out, free.

“You left,” Jean says, and his voice sounds rough, grating.

“Please,” Kevin says, quiet and intense, “Jean, help me help him.”

There is only so much Jean will be able to do for the Butcher’s son, Kevin’s little number 10. Neil. There is only so much he will be able to do, and Jean will do it, because once upon a time, loyalty meant something to him. 

“You left,” Jean repeats, the fact inescapable and heavy between them. 

“I had to,” Kevin says.

“I know,” Jean says. This time, an accusation. 

03.

Jean doesn’t remember much, about leaving the Nest. Later, he will be grateful for these holes in his memory, which shield him from the fear he must have been feeling. Later, he will be furious at these holes in his memory, for swallowing this first moment of freedom. 

He does remember some things. He remembers Renee, and the doctor from Palmetto, the collapsible wheelchair they brought, and he remembers insisting on walking. He remembers squinting as the sun hit his eyes, so bright and unfamiliar, throwing spots of black across his vision, as if the Raven colors can follow him here, even, as he leaves. He remembers how Renee and the doctor lay him down in the backseat of the car and how in the moments when he didn’t sleep, he could tell that Renee was driving as carefully as she could, while the doctor watched over him. It was somewhat of a comfort, at least better than anything he was getting in sleep. 

The rest is a blur. 

Renee tells him, later, that he was out for several days. He doesn’t remember dreams, but she tells him that he yelled some, cried some. Renee does not believe in keeping this kind of information from Jean, when he asks. Most of the time, he does not ask. When he wakes up, she is there, Renee and the doctor. He can hear people coming in and out of the house – the doctor’s house, Abby, Renee calls her. He assumes that these are the other Foxes, whose names he knows because Riko read up on them obsessively, since Kevin transferred. Jean has no interest in them, they have already given him too much trouble, except Neil, who has given Jean the most trouble, but still he is glad that Neil, at least, has survived. 

Occasionally, he can hear the passers-through ask about him, the doctor reassuring them in her even voice. Mostly he tunes it all out, and focuses on the steady pattern of feeling his panic rise in his throat until it threatens to overwhelm, and then receding as the physical pain becomes the more dominant experience, in and out like the tides. And then one hour, one day, he opens his eyes to greet a world he wants nothing to do with, and Kevin is there. 

Kevin has pulled a chair close to the bed Jean is lying in, because the two of them have never been good with personal space. Jean wonders if his throat can handle yelling at Kevin. He is certainly capable of working through the pain, but the truth is, he doesn’t really want to yell at Kevin. Maybe he wants to be yelled at by Kevin? Jean is not in a very clear headspace, and he has not heard yelling in what he thinks is several days, which is quite disorienting. 

Kevin is frowning at something, probably one of Jean’s bruises, of which there are many, but after a moment, he seems to register that Jean has opened his eyes, too quickly for Jean to consider pretending to go back to sleep. 

“Jean,” he says, and his voice is distractingly sweet. Jean wants to know who this boy is and what he has done with Jean’s Kevin Day, because Jean’s Kevin Day never talks like this. Jean’s Kevin Day is focused, always. He is determined and proud, a pride still unbroken by the world, which Jean has been known to be fleetingly jealous of. Jean’s Kevin Day can be careful and sometimes even gentle, on Jean’s worst days when he needs it the most. But this, today, is something that Jean has never heard, in his many years of knowing Kevin Day. Kevin talks like he wants his words to fall soft like snow. It is the opposite of yelling, and to Jean’s surprise, it goes down soft, covering him like a blanket of snow too. 

So instead of yelling or crying or throwing his hurt and fear back in Kevin’s painfully familiar face, Jean says, “You came back for me.”

“I had to,” Kevin says.

And Jean says, “I know.”


End file.
